Guardian Angels
by Shirleylocked
Summary: John didn't realize how special he was until he met his angel and Jame Moriarty really didn't know that someone in the world loved him, but there was one person out there. One angel is strong and sure, while the other crumples, taking on the burdens of their human. Can there really be peace amongst the greatest minds in the world? M for abuse, rape, drug use, and other stuff...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Yes, I know... Why have you started a new story? Well, it just sorta happened. I couldn't write any of my other stories, got to hate writers block! Not to mention I've been busy with other things as well...getting side tracked. **

**A friend told me in passing that no one could make Moriarty human or tear worthy and this is the first thing that came to mind. Hope I prove her wrong. **

**Alright, so this story will have some religious tidbits in it, but I'm not shoving anything down your throat, so chillax. I promise it will be light and ignorable if you want to ignore it.**

**There will also be M rated matirial including (but not limited to): violence, rape, child abuse, slash, and cursing. (had to cover all of the bases, just saying).**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock Holmes and if I did i would be a lot happier. Mr. Doyle, Mr. Gatis, and Mr. Moffit are three very lucky people.**

**So...yeah...that's that.**

* * *

Never Believed in Angels

"CAPTIAN WATSON!" John's head instantly swiveled around to see one of his men bending over a wounded solider. John ran to the broken man's side and knelt next to him. "He's losing too much blood, John…please." The soldier begged, looking down at one of his comrades.

"Go, there's still two snipers out there. I'll take care of him. Find shelter and Adams, he's attempting to get rid of the snipers."

"Yes sir." The man said taking off as quickly as he could. John leaned over the man before him and began to examine the bullet hole in his gut.

"You're going to be alright, Cam." John promised in his soothing voice. He prayed his words were true, hoping he could stop the bleeding.

"Do you believe in angels, John?" The man said with a cough, staring up at John with tired eyes.

"Never had any evidence that they existed, no…" John commented going through a pouch in his pants before working on the large wound in the soldier's gut.

"Really?" The man coughed, his lips coated in his own blood. "Strange…that an angel wouldn't believe in angels…"

"What?" John asked curiously as he worked at the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Did you think I couldn't see the wings spread out behind you? You would think the others would have seen them by now…noticed them…" The man said his eyes slowly started to close.

"Don't you dare! Dammit! Stay with me! That's an order!" John shouted. "I can fix this, you just have to stay with me!"

"Sorry…looks like I can't follow that…order…angel…sir…" The man's body went completely limp under John's bloodied hands.

"No! You can't die, not on my watch." John said, pushing on the man's chest hard, trying to revive the man, but the chest compressions…the breathing…all of the work John did, was for nothing. The man lay dead in front John, his blood going cold on John's hands. "Dammit!" John hissed after several long minutes. He grabbed the man's body and hoisted it over his shoulders. The dead weight of the man was nearly too much for John, but he managed and carried his fallen comrade all the way back to the base, ensuring that his family had a body to bury…

888

"You couldn't have done anything different." Sophie stated in a quiet voice, peering into John's small room.

"Perhaps I could have." John frowned, looking down at his bloodied hands. Sophie walked into his room and knelt in front of the stressed army doctor.

"Hey, you did all you could, no one blames you."

"I'm sure that will comfort his pregnant wife back home." John commented harshly, closing his eyes. Sophie slapped John across the face.

"Sorry, but you needed that. Get your ass up and wash your hands. Change that shirt and get your shite together. Cam wouldn't want us to have been like this. He would have beaten you to a bloody pulp if he saw you right now." John stood up and washed his bloody hands before Sophie nodded in approval and left him to get dressed. John quickly changed and lay down on his cot, face down, refusing to let any tears fall. He felt a strange wave of contentment spread through him.

_You did all you could do… _Some part of John's mind whispered to him. _You did everything in your power… Sometimes people just got to let go… You have to let them go… _

888

"SHERLOCK!" Mycroft shouted, pushing his younger brother against the wall.

"They _need_ me Mycroft! Let go of me! Please…" Sherlock pleaded, pain, worry, and guilt ran through his mind making him feel excruciatingly uncomfortable.

"You need to sit down and shut up, Sherlock." Mycroft retorted. "They already are trying to help you with your cocaine addiction, they don't need to think that you're insane as well." Mycroft hissed.

"Please…? Don't you understand? Don't you know how this feels?" Sherlock groaned, falling to the ground limply, covering his eyes.

"No, I don't understand how withdrawals feel. I've never been addicted to anything."

"Wouldn't say that if I were you… You are quite addicted to cake." Sherlock commented. "Gained seven pounds I see. Fitting, I believe you fit the category of one of the seven deadly sins—"

"Oh be quiet. You have more things to worry about aside from my weight."

"Please, let me go… I promise I'll come back and stay here for however long it takes to get clean if you let me go."

"You have to stay here, Sherlock. No matter how much it calls you…you need to stay here. You needn't go running at the slightest hint of pain and guilt. If you ran every time you would never stop moving…never rest. Humans are meant to feel these things, they have to feel these things to grow."

"But I hate it…"

"I know brother… I know…but it is not your place to stop all emotion from occurring. No one can live in a plastic bubble, a sphere of perfect happiness, no matter how much we wish it so."

"Easy for you to say, you've found Lestrade…"

888

John had been fine for the last three months, no one had been shot (plenty had been shot at, but none had actually been hit). He hadn't needed to try to save anyone's life, which meant that he hadn't had to send anyone home in a body bag or on a very critical ride in a helicopter… Up until the moment he sat in at that instant, he was fine.

"Adams… Stay awake, kid." John stated, tending to the bullet that had pierced the boy's side.

"I'm alright, sir." Adams said tiredly. He was young, barely into his twenties, with a girlfriend at home, not to mention three very loving sisters and two brothers. John promised himself that the boy before him would be going home to his family, not losing them out in the sands of Afghanistan.

"You've lost some blood, but we'll get you out of here, alright?" John promised, stitching the wound as quickly as he could. A bomb leveled a house around the corner, but the doctor's hands were completely steady, finishing off the stitches. "You have to stay awake alright?"

"Yes, sir." Adams nodded.

"Good—" A second bomb went off and several shots filled the air.

"WATSON! CAPTIAN!"

"Stay awake, stay here, you're safe here." John shouted before running along the side of the building. He glanced around the corner quickly, seeing a fellow soldier trapped under a large piece of the building that had blown up. His legs obviously broken by the impact. John glanced at the shooters before he took off towards his trapped companion.

"I'm sorry…" The man said as he fired at the shooters that clearly had the pair outnumbered.

"Don't say sorry, we just need to worry about getting out of here." John said. He moved to lift the large concrete slab on the man's leg, but he stumbled back slightly before he lifted the piece up and pulled the man out from underneath it. The man screamed in pain. "I'll be your legs if you shot those bastards before they kill us." John promised.

"Agreed." The man nodded.

"Ready?"

"Let's go, sir." John hoisted the man up, who winced but kept his eyes on his opponents as John carried him to safety, setting him down next to Adams behind the building. He looked down at the man's legs, trying to get his left arm to move, but it didn't seem to listen to him.

"Oh my god, what happened sir?" Adams asked with wide eyes.

"Nothing, we're all going to be fine." John promised, feeling light-headed.

"Captain, you've been shot." Adams said. John looked down at the wound in his shoulder, blood already beginning to soak his entire coat. Adams was instantly going out over the radio, calling for someone-anyone to take John away from the battle field. John looked away from the possibly fatal wound in his arm and began to tend to the man's legs before him with his right hand.

_Stupid! He won't die, tend to yourself… Oh god…please… You're bleeding out… _A voice panicked in John's mind. John suddenly fell backwards quite close to fainting. Adams caught him and lowered him to the ground.

The world went silent to John, no more explosions and gun shots…just silence. John felt something beneath him, cradling his head. "Stay with me… Stay awake. Don't give up on me." John opened his eyes to see that the world was exceptionally white, huge white feathered wings hung over him, cradling him in a warm cocoon of safety and peace. John was glad he couldn't feel pain, glad that he might die a pain free death.

"Thank you angel…" John said quietly.

"Shut up! You aren't going to die idiot…just close your eyes… You'll wake up safe and sound I promise…"

"M...kay…" John said, closing his eyes slowly and falling asleep in the faceless angel's arms.

888

John woke up to the sight of white all around him. A sterile smell permeated the air around him. "Good to see your eyes opening, Captain." A soothing voice said. John turned his head towards the nurse who smiled kindly at him. "We were thinking you might not wake up."

"What happened?" John asked, wincing as he tried to adjust himself on the hospital bed. His shoulder seared with pain and he instantly stopped moving.

"You were shot in the shoulder while you carried away one of your comrades, very brave thing to do… They say you were conscious and trying to fix his broken legs until you lost too much blood to stay awake any longer."

"Adams! Sanchez! Are they alright?" John asked sitting up in spite of his body's protests. The nurse gently grabbed him and pushed him back into the bed.

"They're both fine. Adams sent word, he's back in active duty. Sanchez is in the hospital with two broken legs—one being crushed, but he's alive and well." She promised. "Relax, you've been through a lot."

"When do I go back?" John asked. The nurse frowned at him.

"A lot of nerve damage was done to your shoulder, sir… You won't be going back."

"What?" John asked, glancing down at his arm to find his hand shaking outside of his control.

"I'm sorry…" The nurse said. "I'm just going to give you something for the pain." She said, adding morphine to the army doctors IV before she walked away, leaving the suddenly invalid army doctor alone.

* * *

Poor Watson...how i love to torture him.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: And chapter 2... R&R. :)**

* * *

First Glance

Angels were strange creatures. They lived for forever, waiting for that one person they were supposed to live, breathe, and take all sorts of pain for. From their birth a guardian angel could feel the person they were to protect, feel their pain and emotions…but they didn't know who they were supposed to be protecting, not until they physically met them. Most angels found their human after a few short years, but some never found their humans, only watching and guiding from afar.

Some angels lived hundreds of years before their humans were even born…much like the angel in question who stood over a microscope. He could feel his human—who happened to be nearly content at the moment, though they had obviously had a nightmare not long ago. It was just an emotional connection, sometimes a mental connection, but the angel knew hardly anything about the human he was born to protect. Even with all of his endless knowledge and genius, he couldn't deduce anything about the person he was to protect.

He sighed, irritated that he hadn't been there for his human when they had been upset, possibly to the point of tears after their nightmare. But he was happy that his human was calmer now, more relaxed as the day went by. He looked back through the microscope and hardly paid any attention when the door squeaked open.

"Bit different from my day." The voice sent an electric shock through Sherlock's entire being. He glanced up at the man who had entered the room alongside Mike Stamford. He was a short man with dark blonde hair that was greying slightly at the temples. His blue eyes were deep and crystal clear. His human…he had finally found his human. Sherlock found an excuse to walk closer to his human by asking for a phone to text on.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" Sherlock wondered, his heart ached at the sight of the cane in his human's hand. His shoulder burned just as the doctor's did and Sherlock's hand had a slight tremor to it.

"Sorry?" John wondered. Sherlock's heart melted at the sound of the man's voice and he knew he was feeling something more than the bond a guardian had to it's human. Sherlock was irritated when Molly entered the room, forcing him to look away from his human. Sherlock practically ignored the girl, hoping that she would go away so that he could talk to the man again… John Watson? That's what Mike had called his human… John…such a perfect name…

"How do you feel about the violin?" Sherlock asked him curiously. Could his human actually stand a chance at moving in with him? Oh that would be _lovely._ Sherlock thought. He could really keep an eye on his human then. He could protect him and take care of him…keep him safe and happy…

"I'm sorry, what?" He was adorable when he was confused.

"I play the violin when I am thinking; sometimes I don't speak for days on end…" _But if you want me to talk I will. I can do that for you._ "Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other." He smiled warmly at John, he felt a genuine smile for the first time light his face and prayed that he would feel more of them.

"You told him about me?" John asked Mike, seeming suspicious of Sherlock.

"Not a word."

"Then who said anything about flatmates?"

"I did." Sherlock said, pulling on his coat. He didn't want to startle his human too much by being far too clingy like he knew he would be capable of doing, so he focused his attentions on a case he had on hand. "I told Mike that I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for. Now here he is just after lunch with an old friend, clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan. It wasn't a difficult leap." _Does he mind me being so smart? Does he think I am being too pompous? I could be kinder if he wanted me to be. I could try really hard to be less smug. I could. _Sherlock couldn't help but glance at the shoulder and leg that he could feel John's pain radiating from.

"How did you know about Afghanistan?" John asked curiously.

"I've got my eye on a nice little place in Central London." _Focus on the case…not him… Don't overwhelm him. Now…murder…_ "Together we ought to be able to afford it." _I could pay for it all, I promise that you'll want for nothing with me. I'll take care of you._ "We'll meet there tomorrow evening at seven o'clock. Sorry, got to dash. I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary."

"Is that it then?" John asked curiously.

"Is that what?" Sherlock wondered. _Please don't say no…please. I beg you. Can't you feel the connection?_

"We've only just met and we're going to go look at a flat?" John wondered.

"Problem?" Sherlock asked. _He hasn't said no, thank God. Please feel the connection, don't leave me now. You'll only force me to stalk you and I doubt you'll appreciate it._

"We don't know a thing about each other. I don't know where we're meeting. I don't even know your name." John said simply.

_Oh John… I know a lot about you… _"I know you're an army doctor and you've been invalided home from Afghanistan. I know you were shot in the left shoulder whilst taking care of a comrade in the middle of a war zone, perhaps one with grievous injuries. I know you've got a brother who's worried about you, but you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him—possibly because he's an alcoholic, more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know that your therapist thinks your limp's psychosomatic, quite correctly I'm afraid, but that doesn't make it hurt any less to you." Sherlock looked John up and down briefly. "That's enough to be going on with, don't you think?" Sherlock turned to leave the room before popping back in. "The name's Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221b Baker Street. Afternoon." _Please come meet me John… Please…please… _Sherlock thought as he walked away from his human.

Sherlock pulled out his phone and texted his brother instantly.

_He's absolutely wonderful, my sweet human. SH_

_So glad you've found him. Sweet? MH_

_Yes…there's something about him…something more… SH_

_Will I be meeting him anytime soon? MH_

_I doubt it… I only hope he'll meet me tomorrow. SH_

_You sound like you are in the best mood you've been in sense the turn of the century—last century that is. MH_

_I am happy… Don't ruin it. SH_

_Didn't plan on it. MH_


	3. Chapter 3

**Famous movie referance in this chapter! I'll give you a cookie if you can tell me what movie it's from?! :)**

* * *

The Cabbie

John sat next to the man he hardly knew in a restaurant, but he felt completely safe next to the very attractive man—who happened to be a genius. The man with wispy black hair had taken the army doctor by storm. His manner pulled the limping man in like a moth to the flame. "So do you have a girlfriend?" John wondered. Sherlock looked like a man who could have his choice of girls.

"No…not really my area…" Sherlock admitted a slight blush creeping up on his high cheek bones. No, Sherlock really hadn't cared for any human…not until he had met the rather striking Dr. John Watson who sat across from him currently.

"Oh…boyfriend then?" John inquired, actually starting to wonder if the man in front of him would actually care for anyone outside of the dead bodies he investigated, the ones that kept him from being bored.

"Not at the moment…" Sherlock shrugged. Sherlock hadn't attempted dating since the end of the nineteenth century. He had found a man quite attractive, but it hadn't gone anywhere. Most relationships angels had didn't go anywhere, because angels only ever had one soul-mate—all the other people in the world were just white noise. Most often an angel's soul-mates were their humans, but Sherlock had had to wait a long time for both to show up. He merely wished he would be patient enough for John to realize his feelings before Sherlock pushed his own on John.

"Oh, alright then." John commented, blushing a slight bit. He didn't know why he was blushing. He had never found a man even the slightest bit attractive before in his life…yet somehow the man in the mysterious black coat and blue scarf had caught his eye.

"That's clever… Is it clever? Why is that clever?"

"What?" John asked popping out of his trance.

"Taxi stopped, never getting in, never getting out…" Sherlock commented, standing up to leave. John stood up following the man instinctively, not knowing that he was about to chase the cab through half of London.

888

"That was the craziest thing…I've ever done." John said trying to catch his breath as he leaned against the wall next to Sherlock.

"You invaded Afghanistan." _You got hurt, you got shot, John… You've no idea how stupid that was…_

"That wasn't just me." John giggled.

"Mrs. Hudson, John will take the room upstairs." Sherlock called. _Hopefully not for long…_

"Says who?"

"Says the man at the door." Sherlock smiled at John, whose limp truly was psychosomatic. Sherlock prayed that hopefully once John physically realized that the wound wasn't there he might stop feeling the pain. Sherlock would do anything to make sure John felt pain free. John walked back into the house with his cane, which he promptly propped under the coat rack.

"Sherlock, what've you done?" Mrs. Hudson asked in a worried voice.

"What is it?" Sherlock wondered.

"Upstairs…" Mrs. Hudson stated. Sherlock took the steps two at a time with John at his heals. Just inside the flat Lestrade sat in his chair waiting for him.

"What are you doing here?"

"It's a drugs bust." Lestrade explained shooting an almost apologetic look at Sherlock. He knew about Sherlock being an angel, because of his connection with Mycroft. He knew that cocaine wasn't a problem for an angel, it was like a headache reliever to an angel. It made Lestrade feel terrible whenever he chased after Sherlock because of the drugs, he knew they were the only thing strong enough to ease an angel's tension. He always felt bad because Sherlock often had headaches, especially since he was so far from his human.

"This man a junkie? Have you met him?" John asked, instantly defending Sherlock.

"John…" Sherlock warned, glancing at his human.

"Are you serious?" John asked in shock. "Really?" Sherlock looked back at Lestrade.

"Are you clean?"

"Yes…" Sherlock commented, rolling his eyes.

"Is the flat clean?"

"Yes," Sherlock stated, keeping his eyes from straying to his stash. "I'm clean. What are you doing here?"

"I'm not stupid; I knew you would find the case."

"So you came to search my flat for drugs what's that about?"

"You can't withhold evidence from us, Sherlock." Lestrade commented.

"Are these human eyes?" Sally inquired.

"Put those back."

"They were in the microwave!" Sally protested.

"It's an experiment." John looked on with conflicted eyes as the people in the room who bantered back and forth. Sherlock was going into depth about a phone and how intelligent the pink lady was when John felt a phone go off in his pocket. He looked down at Sherlock's phone—he had had the phone for hours after Sherlock had refused to use his phone to text the murderer.

_Come with me._

John turned and saw a cabbie standing just down the stairs from the flat. John knew the text was meant for Sherlock, but John didn't want the man to go and face a serial killer, Sherlock didn't seem like the type capable of dealing with the killer in his mind's eye. John discretely placed Sherlock's phone on the couch before he walked out of the room and followed the cabbie out into the night.

888

"So we can track the phone then." Lestrade commented.

"Yes, exactly." Sherlock nodded. "Where's John?" Sherlock asked suddenly looking around the flat with keen eyes. He had felt John's nervousness in the back of his mind and was instantly on John alert, but John was nowhere to be seen. Sherlock saw his phone on the couch and instantly went to it.

"I don't know, must be here somewhere." Lestrade shrugged. Sherlock looked at the texts and instantly his blood ran cold. He closed his eyes and forced the mental connection to open between himself and John. He could instantly see the location he was nearing.

"I have to go, find the killer Lestrade!" Sherlock sent a text to Mycroft as he ran out of the flat.

888

"So you gave your victims a choice?" John asked.

"You can chose either bottle and I'll take the one you don't."

"Iocain powder right? You've been building an immunity to it…" John teased idly.

"You wish, Mr. Holmes." The cabbie smirked. "Your fan told me that you were smart, but are you smart enough to choose the correct one?"

"Who is this person? My fan?" John wondered, not bothering to correct the cabbie.

"No one that you'll ever know about in this lifetime." The cabbie chuckled.

"I could just walk away, I don't have to do anything you say. Between the two of us you are obviously the weaker of the two." John commented. The cabbie pulled out a gun and pointed it at John.

"The pills or the gun. At least with the pills you have a choice." John smirked.

"I'll take the gun please. I don't trust chance."

"You sure about that?"

"Definitely…"

"Don't want to phone a friend?"

"The gun." John replied simply. Before the cabbie could squeeze the trigger a large figure burst into the room and knocked the cabbie to the ground all while pushing John away from the cabbie. John hit the floor hard and his head went fuzzy at the blow. He was sure that he was going to remain conscious until the sight of two very large, white wings reminiscent of an eagle came into sight. Then he knew he was done for, especially when the winged creature reminded him of Sherlock.

John opened his eyes to see Sherlock hovering over him looking extremely worried. "Oh thank God…" Sherlock sighed. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah…" John stated. "My head hurts a bit, but I'm fine."

"I noticed." Sherlock commented. John looked around the room and noted that Lestrade was pulling a wounded cabbie out of the room. "You want to leave."

"God yes." John agreed. Sherlock helped John to his feet and began to walk him towards the exit. "Where did the wings go?" John asked casually when they had the hallway to themselves.

"I don't know what you mean." Sherlock commented.

"Funny… I thought you knew everything about everything." John shrugged. "I'm not blind Sherlock… I may not be anything special like you, but I do have eyes that function."

"You are special, John, don't let yourself think any different." Sherlock stated.

"You're not going to answer me are you?"

"You need to see a doctor, get your head checked."

"I'm positive I don't have a concussion." John snorted. "Just a bit shocked when an angel came and rescued me."

"Angel, really?"

"Don't act dumb, you aren't good at it." John insisted, his eyes narrowing in Sherlock's direction as they left the college and walked out of the crime scene.

"Not now John, later." Sherlock relented.

"Knew you were lying." John smiled happily.

"Ah, so there's the famous John Watson." A very confident voice said. Sherlock froze and turned to look at Mycroft.

"I told you—"

"Since when have I ever listened to you?" Mycroft asked with a large smile.

"Never."

"Who is this?" John wondered.

"I'm Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's brother." He smiled. "Glad to see you are alright, my brother was worried."

"Do you know about the—?"

"Wings? Of course I do…though Sherlock can explain that later. Your head does hurt doesn't it… I would take some sort of medicine for that when you get home. Glad to have met you, John." Mycroft nodded. "Do write to Mummy, Sherlock, she asked me to remind you. It upsets her when you don't."

"As if I could upset her…" Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned John back towards 221B, making sure he made it home without incident.

* * *

**John will learn about Sherlock soon. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Angels explained... Have problems with religion? I did warn you before...but don't worry it's nearly nonexistant on here.**

**But...if you are sensitive...**

**I don't own any of this by the way...still... :( I do own both seasons though...and the books...and the movies...and well pretty much everything Sherlock...except for Sherlock himself. :(**

* * *

Angel

John walked up the stairs into 221B with Sherlock shadowing him silently. John instantly went to the fridge and grabbed a glass of water before downing two aspirin and walking into the living room where he promptly sat down on the arm chair. Sherlock slowly glided across the room and sat on the sofa. They stared at each other for a long moment. "So… What's the story?"

"I'm an angel." Sherlock said seriously, watching John for his reaction.

"Angels don't exist." John commented, but he himself truly didn't believe it, not after seeing the wings he saw an hour earlier.

"Well then, apparently I've been missing the memo for the past four centuries." Sherlock shrugged.

"Four centuries?" John inquired.

"Yes, now would you please quit pretending that you don't believe me? This conversation would go much smoother if you did as such." Sherlock said, his tone was soft, definitely not an order, merely a suggestion.

"How did you get to me faster than the others?"

"Flying… I'm quite fast. Probably one of the faster angels in the world."

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be in heaven, or something like that?" John wondered.

"I'm a Guardian Angel, I'm supposed to stay here, to protect and take care of my human."

"What—oh sod this, you might as well tell me all you are comfortable with, or else I'll be asking a lot of questions." John stated. Sherlock chuckled.

"That's probably for the best, yes…" Sherlock agreed. "I was born in the year 1732, Mycroft is ten years my senior, though some days he doesn't act like it."

"So you didn't fall from heaven or anything like that?"

"No, most Guardian angels are born into this world. Some never leave heave and just shelter their humans from afar. Mummy is an angel as well, making our family one of the largest angelic families in the world."

"Is your father an—?"

"We'll talk about that later." Sherlock commented, his voice somber. "Every angel is born with a set of wings that are unique to that angel. Our wings can never be taken from us, save for very extreme cases, Lucifer being one of the few. Angels can see each other's wings whether they are extended or not, while humans cannot see them unless we have them extended. We are virtually indestructible and will live forever, except under extreme conditions."

"Mycroft…he seemed to—"

"Read your mind?" Sherlock smirked. "Yes, he can do that. It's his gift—his extremely annoying gift, mind you, but his gift indeed. Angels have gifts, most common gifts are elemental in nature, more complex gifts are of foresight, telepathy, telekinesis, and healing. Plus we have a strong bond to our humans, so long as our humans don't shut us out."

"What is that like?"

"Intense for both people, honestly." Sherlock stated truthfully. "When an angel has yet to meet their human, they know very little about them. They could sense their human and feel their moods—sometimes even catching a few stray thoughts from them, but they can't know who their humans are until they meet them. Without knowing their humans angels are known for appearing in their dreams as faceless beings, protecting and sheltering their humans when they are stressed or sad. Angels can always feel the pain of their human, great or small. Once a human allows an angel into their life though…that's a whole new thing. The angel can read the mind of its human, feel their moods, ease their pains…locate them whenever the need to."

"So your whole job is to protect humans?" John wondered.

"A human, only one. We angels who have come down to earth are only meant to protect one person. The angels who remain in heaven take care of hundreds of people. The earthbound angels are there to take care of special people, guiding them, keeping them safe." Sherlock smiled. "We are whatever are humans need of us. I used to know an angel who was born to be the twin sister of a girl who later contracted leukemia. She saved her human's life. We just are what are humans need, it is our job."

"Who's your human?" John inquired.

"It took me a long time to figure that out, actually. Mycroft found his human years ago. Lestrade really needed a friend when he was a teen, believe it or not Lestrade was a bit of a trouble maker. They've become really close, they're soul mates, meant to be together."

"Angels can have soul mates?" John asked, shocked.

"We aren't perfect John. Especially those of us on earth. We are human-ish. We make mistakes, we brake rules, we have tempers, we fall in love… Honestly we aren't perfect." Sherlock chuckled.

"So you've found your human then?" John wondered. Somehow John felt a little disappointed when Sherlock nodded. He knew he probably wouldn't be special enough to constitute his own personal guardian angel…but he did hope. He was also a bit sad to know Sherlock would be dedicated to someone else, he already had strange unexplainable feelings for the man.

"Unfortunately his head hurts quite a bit in spite of the two aspirin he took, not to mention his poor shoulder." Sherlock frowned. "It's quite painful actually, but I've taken most of it out of his conscious thoughts." John's eyes widened. "Yes, it's you John."

"You've taken pain from me?"

"Yes, that is why your head hasn't been hurting quite as bad, the aspirin has done nothing for you." Sherlock frowned.

"Don't needlessly hurt yourself Sherlock." John stated getting up and sitting next to Sherlock.

"It isn't needless. You suffer far too much as it is."

"You were the voice in my head…after I was shot. You were the person holding onto me." John realized.

"Technically I didn't even know who you were. All I knew was that you were in pain, so I forced my mind into yours and tried to ease your pain and keep you as calm as I could manage." Sherlock frowned and gently placed his hand over John's scar. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. It wouldn't have happened if I would've found you sooner."

"It wasn't your fault." John soothed. "What did I do to warrant my own personal angel?"

"No one ever knows. I find it's best not to ask that question." Sherlock said, lowering his hand.

"Is that why…?"

"Why what?" Sherlock wondered.

"Why I've felt…drawn to you since I met you?"

"Perhaps…most humans aren't drawn to their angels so readily…unless there's a special bond between them."

"Like Lestrade and Mycroft?"

"Like them and like all angels who have, familial bonds with their humans." Sherlock stated.

"I've felt inexplicitly safe near you."

"I've noticed…you're not one to trust others easily. It must have been difficult for you to just feel comfortable with a complete stranger."

"It's been different…but not difficult. If that makes sense." John looked up at Sherlock.

"It does." Sherlock smiled and then frowned. He put his hand gently to John's shoulder and began to massage the tender muscles and scar tissue. John tensed for a moment before relaxing under Sherlock's hands.

"You don't have to—"

"I would feel bad if I didn't." Sherlock cut in quickly.

"Can you read minds like Mycroft?"

"I might be able to read yours eventually, but now I cannot read your mind—nor anyone else's, unless you count my deductions as mind-reading."

"What is your gift?" John asked, looking into Sherlock's grey eyes. Sherlock glanced at the Union Jack pillow and it easily lifted and moved across the room, settling behind John. "Show off."

"Yes, does that bother you?" Sherlock wondered.

"Not in the slightest, it's _you_. It's part of who you are." John smiled. "You're quite good at massages." John said, his whole arm felt like jelly under Sherlock's hands.

"You can learn a lot over the course of four centuries. I'm glad this lesson came in handy." Sherlock smiled. Sherlock stood up and sat behind John. John went to move but Sherlock held onto his shoulders, stopping him.

"You don't have any room."

"I'm fine." Sherlock commented. It was easier for him to massage the back of John's shoulder when he sat behind him. Sherlock himself could feel exactly where John's shoulder hurt and he made sure to ease the pain. When Sherlock felt all of the tension fall out of John's shoulder he gently began to rub the back of John's head. "I'm sorry I knocked you over… I truly never wanted you to get hurt."

"I's alright Sherlock…" John said tiredly, the day's events finally taking its toll on the army doctor.

"You're tired."

"Good observation, tha'… The massage isn't exactly keeping me awake an' alert…" John yawned. Before Sherlock could come up with a smart-arsed reply John's body went limp as sleep took him over. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, ensuring that he wouldn't fall over and hurt himself. Sherlock allowed his wings to materialize and he gently lifted himself into the air, carrying John with him. He floated soundlessly across the room, opening John's bedroom door with his mind before carrying him towards the bed and setting him down gently, so as not to disrupt his sleep.

Sherlock smiled at the sleeping form of his human, his _John. _He was immensely glad to see the doctor was safe, though he felt terrible for letting John get that close to harm again. Sherlock turned to walk away and give John his privacy until he felt sorrow run through John's mind.

_A nightmare, _thought Sherlock sadly. He instantly retracted his wings and lay down next to John, practically spooning the army doctor and he wrapped his arms around him. He closed his eyes and focused solely on exuding nothing but calm emotions, praying that he could help ease John out of his nightmares.

* * *

**Couldn't help but make them cuddle... Aww... :D**

**R&R**


	5. Chapter 5

**Mystrade ahead...nothing bad though...fluffiness really.**

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Mycroft and Lestrade

John woke up to find that his pillow was a tad bit less fluffy than he remembered. It smelt of honey, a forest after a rain, and mint tea? Was his pillow wearing a shirt as well? John suddenly realized that he wasn't snuggled up to his pillow, instead he was clutching onto a rather wonderful smelling angel with his head buried in said angel's chest.

"Good morning." Sherlock whispered quietly.

"Um why—"

"You were having a nightmare…something about the army if I recall correctly. I couldn't very well let you sleep through something that terrified you." Sherlock stated. "However, the real question on your mind is why haven't you already pulled yourself away, to which I have no answer for you." Sherlock smiled smugly when John slowly pulled away from Sherlock, sitting up.

"Can you read my thoughts?" John asked.

"Yes… At some point, your unconscious mind accepted that I was indeed real and really your guardian angel, ever since I've been able to read your mind." John opened his mouth to speak but Sherlock beat him to it. "I've been mindful of your privacy. I didn't have to read your thoughts that time, easy deduction. I rely more so on your emotions than your actual thoughts…I didn't think you would appreciate my prying, so I didn't."

"Thank you." John said, relieved. Sherlock sat up straight and stretched his shoulders slightly. "Did you sleep at all?"

"I don't usually sleep. Angels don't need it, only when my mind needs a break do I sleep, or when I am extremely bored…which happens sometimes. Same for eating, so don't freak out if I go without eating for a long while." Sherlock winked at John.

"That will be hard to get used to."

"For a doctor I suppose it would be difficult to let slide."

"How did we get up here? I normally wake up easily."

"Being able to fly makes for a jostle free ride, not to mention opening doors with one's mind can be handy." Sherlock grinned. John's eyes suddenly became curious.

"May I see them?" John wondered. Sherlock slid towards the foot of the bed and sat cross-legged before allowing his wings to extend outwards. Each wing was nearly five feet long. The feathers were bright white with a blue-grey tint on the very edges of the plumes—a shade that matched Sherlock's eyes precisely. They were elegant and strong, much like an eagle's. "Beautiful…" John whispered in awe of the creature before him.

"Thank you." Sherlock blushed lightly at the compliment. John shifted forward on the bed slightly, his arm lifting slightly, but then he retracted it.

"I'm sorry… May I?" John inquired with wide eyes. Sherlock's wings moved forward and encircled John in confirmation. John gingerly stretched out his hand and ran his fingertips over the silky smooth feathers on Sherlock's wings. The silky wing twitched convulsively away from John's hand. "I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"

"No, they're just really sensitive…they aren't accustomed to being touched very often."

"Ticklish sensitive?" John questioned.

"In the right spots." Sherlock admitted, wrinkling his nose. John gently placed his hand on the wing and stroked it gently. Sherlock relaxed after a moment and hummed in contentment. "Mmm." Sherlock smiled and closed his eyes. John was glad to see the angel looking so happy and relaxed. Since the moment he had met Sherlock he had noticed how high-strung he was, much like a piano wire. He seemed more relaxed this morning than he ever had been before. He wondered mildly how he had changed so rapidly. "Things change when angels find their humans…" Sherlock explained.

"I thought you weren't reading my mind."

"Just because I'm not trying to read it doesn't mean that I don't hear the things you think when your mental voice is so loud." Sherlock smiled.

"Sorry, I don't mean to shout at you."

"I don't mind. I've never had my own thoughts this quiet before, it's refreshing, to _not _see everything about everything and everyone." Sherlock commented. John smiled and touched Sherlock's wing, closer to his shoulder and Sherlock pulled away instantly. "Not there. Anywhere else but there."

"Ticklish then?" John asked, smiling, reaching out for the spot again. Sherlock pulled back.

"Yes, and don't you dare, I see what you're planning."

"What are you going to do? Fight me?"

"I can subdue you without hurting you." Sherlock stated, still pulling away.

"Would you do that though?" John asked skeptically, pulling away from Sherlock.

"Probably not." Sherlock agreed. Sherlock's head swiveled around towards the living room. "Why are they here?"

"Who?" John asked, watching almost sorrowfully as Sherlock's wings vanished.

"Mycroft and Lestrade…ah, dull. He wants to talk to you." Sherlock got up and walked down the stairs with John behind him. He plopped down on the sofa as John went to the kitchen.

"No tea for me, thank you, John." Mycroft commented. "Greg would love some though, two sugars." It was his only greeting before he sat himself across from Sherlock on an armchair. Lestrade, however, was a bit more polite.

"Hello everyone." Lestrade smiled. "You don't have to listen to this ogre, John."

"It's all fine." John called from the kitchen.

"And what are you doing here today, Mycroft?" Sherlock asked, somewhere between annoyance and curiosity.

"Why do you ask questions to which you already know the answers?" Mycroft retorted.

"Couldn't you have waited for at least another day?" Sherlock asked.

"Of course, but what's the fun of that? Waiting is dull. Besides, he needs a friendly face." Mycroft nodded to Lestrade.

"We don't even know if that is—"

"It is, Sherlock… I've seen it before and that is what it is." Mycroft smiled up at Lestrade who grinned back, almost too sweetly.

"Tea?" John asked, walking into the room and handing a cup to Lestrade.

"Perfect, John." Lestrade said appreciatively after taking a small sip. "Thank you." John smiled and sat next to Sherlock with a bit of space in-between them.

"See Sherlock? Observe?"

"Fine, you win this time." Sherlock sighed.

"Good, now run along for a little while, we need to chat." John looked at Sherlock with questions in his eyes.

"The annoying git is right… I'll be back in two hours, no more no less." Sherlock flashed a look at Mycroft who nodded in ascent. Sherlock stood up, looked at John for one moment and then left the flat quickly, his coat swaying behind him as he dashed out into the London air. Mycroft held still for a long moment before relaxing and smiling at John.

"We got rid of him, didn't we?"

"What's this about?" John wondered. Mycroft moved to open his mouth, but Lestrade put his hand on his shoulder.

"Maybe he would understand more…coming from me."

"Perhaps… You would be the more comfortable person for him to talk to." Mycroft agreed. "Right as usual in the matters of the heart."

"Thank you." Lestrade beamed before he turned to John. "I know you are very confused and torn. You just met your angel and everything feels strange to you now, but don't worry about it, trust me. Having an angel can only be a positive thing."

"Thank you." Mycroft nodded.

"I met Mycroft when I was thirteen… I was attempting to steal a car from someone round the block from me."

"You and theft don't sound like they belong together." John commented. Lestrade shook his head.

"They don't. He was visiting the man in question and found me before I could escape with it. I thought he was going to tell the owners, but instead he took me in his car—a right nice one mind you—and took me out to perhaps the most exquisite dinner I've ever been to." Lestrade shook his head. "He ordered everything for me, knew everything I liked and even knew what I was allergic to. It shocked me, to say the least. He had known that I had grown up quite poor, barely scrapping through the days. You can imagine how shocked I was when a man I didn't know showed up and told me practically everything about me, even the things I didn't tell a soul."

"Must have been terrifying." John stated with wide eyes.

"Indeed. I passed out half-way through the meal... I was shocked when I realized the man across from me could read my every thought. It was like standing in the middle of an opera and not knowing how to sing."

"Thank God Sherlock couldn't read my mind right off. I'd have beaten the hell out of him." Mycroft chuckled amused with John's rant.

"Funny, Lestrade might have tried to break my nose, twice…"

"You deserved it! You followed me home you great oaf!" Lestrade smirked.

"What was I supposed to do, let you sleep in that cold room without any warmth? Heavens no." Mycroft tutted.

"Anyway… John I know where you are coming from. I couldn't get this man to stop following me for months, he was very clingy and I thought him mad as a hatter for thinking himself an angel, but then I saw the wings… He saved me from being gutted in a dark ally, that's when I finally gave into him… I was seventeen." Lestrade looked at Mycroft affectionately. "I probably would have ended up a criminal myself if it wasn't for Mycroft. He helped me become who I am today, but I resisted him for far too long. I just wanted you to know that it's alright to give into Sherlock. Sure, it's going to be weird having a practically stalker-ish and almost clairvoyant angel hovering over you at all times, but it is truly for the better."

"I'm not used to feeling so…out of control."

"Get used to it John, you haven't even heard half of the story." Mycroft smiled, setting John slightly out of ease.

"What do you mean?" John wondered.

"How much do you know about angels?" Lestrade asked quietly.

"A bit, not a lot I'd wager." John shrugged.

"Did he mention any sort of bonds?" Mycroft inquired.

"Like familial bonds between angels and humans, soul mates, and just in general a human and angels bond?"

"Yes, exactly." Mycroft smiled. "I've been through it before, so I saw it happening before Sherlock did. Greg and I share a very rare bond. We're soul mates, perfect for each other, meant for one-another. Most angels don't have that—all angels are perfect for their humans, don't misunderstand me, but not all romantically. Some bonds are like brothers, friends, sisters, mothers, even fathers at times, but very seldom are bonds romantic in nature. They are stronger, harder to resist…more painful if certain parties continually resist." Mycroft glared at Lestrade.

"What can I say? I'm a rebel." Lestrade smiled at Mycroft who melted slightly at the look.

"What are you trying to say?"

"That Sherlock has never been able to seek comfort in anyone in his lifetime. He's lived for centuries and nothing has made him truly happy. You come around and not only is he happy, he's glowing. He would do anything for you, even give up his pratish ways for you."

"Sherlock said angels do that for their humans, they become whatever their human needs." John interjected.

"No, angels are born perfect for their humans, quirks and all—Sherlock's got lots of quirks, I'm sure you've noticed them… Angels don't feel the need to change for their humans, because they know they were perfect for them…but soul mates always strive to be better for one another."

"You think he and I—?"

"I know it." Lestrade commented.

"But I'm not gay."

"You don't have to be. Don't tell me that you haven't found him attractive, that you haven't been following his every movement with your eyes. I heard it myself in your head. You find him quite beautiful, inside and out. Don't tell me there isn't attraction there." Mycroft said with a smug I-know-it-all-and-you-shall-bow-before-me look on his face.

"Yes but…"

"Myc…slow down, you'll give him a heart attack." Lestrade stood up and put a hand on John's shoulder. "I know it's hard to imagine all of this at once, but it is easier if you accept it now, if you don't you'll only cause yourself and Sherlock pain and misery. We don't wish that for either of you."

"Can't I sort this all out in my head before deciding what to do?"

"Of course." Lestrade smiled. "Take some time for yourself. You always have your own free will, John, remember that. Come on, Mycroft…" Lestrade turned to help Mycroft to his feet.

"I would give you the 'Don't hurt my brother' speech, but you don't need it. The only thing I will ask of you is that you will take care of your soul." Mycroft nodded solemnly. Lestrade's eyes widened and filled with sorrow as they walked to the door. "Take care, Dr. Watson." Mycroft called before closing the door.

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**Now why would Mycroft say that... Hint hint...**

**R&R**

**Thanks! :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Mildly grumpy Sherlock ahead...some cuts and some bruises, not to mention a damaged pride...but other than that a pretty smooth chapter.**

**I still don't own Sherlock...bummer right?**

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Acceptance

John walked up the stairs and back into his room. He lay in his bed trying to wrap his head around the new information. How could he be destined to be the soul mate of a man he had only met two days earlier? It was far too much too soon. John heard light steps shuffling around in the flat below and John walked down the stairs to see Sherlock taking off his scarf. Sherlock's black hair as disheveled and matted with rain, falling artfully over his forehead. Sherlock looked at John and a knowing look filled his features.

"I'm sorry… I can leave again if you like." Sherlock stated, preparing to put his scarf on once again. John lifted his hand.

"I could use some fresh air."

"It's chilly out." Sherlock warned with a downcast look on his face. "You can stay, it's fine, I can go back out."

"I don't want to kick you out of your own home." John said putting on his coat as he walked towards the door.

"It's your home too…" Sherlock muttered too quietly for John to hear.

"I'll be back soon, alright? I just need some time to think…" John said, feeling bad that Sherlock looked so sad at his departure.

"I understand…" Sherlock nodded, letting John walk away.

John breathed out a sigh in relief as he stepped out into the steady rain. He needed to think, he needed to find a place where his thoughts wouldn't be biased by the mere presence of Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock being anywhere near John made his judgment and thought processes go out a window. He knew he was already dangerously absorbed in the man—angel—waiting for him at 221B and he needed to make sure that he could deal with simply falling for someone, losing control over his own life.

888

"Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson asked, walking up the stairs with a warm cuppa in her hands. "Are you alright? I can hear you wearing a whole in the rug from downstairs. Bit restless are you?"

"You could say that." Sherlock agreed pacing back and forth. He hated keeping his mind so detached from John's, but he did it for him. He knew John didn't want him there, not in his thoughts, perhaps not even in his life, so he refrained from being a bother.

"What's got you so worked up, luv?" Mrs. Hudson asked, pulling Sherlock to a seat and pushing his shoulders down so that he would sit.

"I found my human…" Sherlock stated, a small smile pulling at his lips.

"Is it that army chap? He seems quite lovely, Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson smiled.

"He is lovely, Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock agreed.

"But…?" Mrs. Hudson asked, sitting down next to Sherlock.

"I don't think he took my…being his angel very well… I don't know if he even wants me near him. How could I survive if he won't let me near enough to take care of him?" Mrs. Hudson squeezed Sherlock's shoulders tenderly.

"He'll come round luv. He's just overwhelmed is all. He's so used to being independent. You could tell by looking at him that his limp alone made him feel uncomfortable. If being dependent on a cane makes him feel insecure could you imagine how insecure he must be now that he feels compelled to be by your side at all times of the day and night. Give him some time to think it through, he'll come back. He wouldn't want to miss out on a catch like you." Mrs. Hudson winked.

"How did you know?" Sherlock wondered.

"You would still be your confident self if he weren't your soul-mate."

"You know me too well, Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock sighed.

"Indeed. Do you want a cuppa?"

"No thank you." Sherlock smiled.

"You sure?"

"Posit—"

_Sherlock! _Sherlock jumped to his feet at once.

"What is it luv?"

"John…he's hurt." Sherlock closed his eyes and ran towards the window. Mrs. Hudson didn't bother with calling after the angel who jumped out the window and into the night, white wings spreading out in the air.

888

John was a strong man, a man who could fight his own battles, but all bets were off when one of the three thugs pressed hard into John's wound. He yelled Sherlock's name in his head as loud as he could. He had no idea how far away Sherlock could hear him from, but he hoped that he would hear him. He fell to his knees and felt knuckles connect with the side of his face before he could manage to block the blow.

John didn't know which of the three had kicked him first, but he knew the second one had made the connection and had aimed for the shoulder. John rolled over, trying to get as much of his shoulder out of their reach as possible. Every movement he made sent fire through his body, all originating from the bullet wound. John thought he saw something move through the sky above him, but his vision was soon blocked by a foot that was about to come down on his face.

"I wouldn't be doing that if I were you." A cold, deep voice warned. The thug put his foot back down on the ground and looked towards a tall, shadowy figure.

"And you're going to stop me?" The man rolled his eyes.

"Shouldn't have touched him." Sherlock stated. All three of the men flew through the air and slammed against the walls of the surrounding buildings.

"Sherlock…" John looked up to see Sherlock kneeling over him.

"John…" Sherlock sighed in relief. "You scared me to death. You're hurt… I'll kill every last one of them."

"Sherlock!" John watched in horror as a knife drove into Sherlock's shoulder. The third thug was thrown back against the wall again, falling unconscious like the others. Sherlock pulled the knife out of his shoulder before carefully wrapping his arms around John's waist. John suddenly felt the ground leave him and he instantly gripped onto Sherlock as tightly as he could.

"I won't let you fall. I promise, you're safe with me." Sherlock whispered into John's ear as he flew sinuously through the night sky. John relaxed slightly and looked around as they soared through the sky, the air whipping past their faces.

"Can't they see you?"

"People see but don't observe, John." Sherlock commented easily before sliding easily through an open window. "Mrs. Hudson! Tea would be appreciated!" Sherlock shouted.

"Of course, luv! John alright?" Mrs. Hudson called back up.

"He will be." Sherlock replied before carrying John to his room. Sherlock set John down gently on the bed before floating away with a quick flutter of his wings. He retrieved a first aid kit and a cool compress before returning to John's side a few seconds later.

"Sherlock!" John exclaimed worriedly.

"I'm fine." Sherlock said briskly. John sat up, his left arm hanging limply at his side. He stared in horror at the large bloodstain on Sherlock's shoulder. He reached with his right hand and unbuttoned Sherlock's shirt. "You don't have to do that, I'm fine—John, I'm alright. I'm only worried about you." Sherlock protested.

"Sherlock, he stabbed through your shoulder!" John shouted back at him, pulling the shirt away to look at Sherlock's shoulder, but there was only a small cut there was disappearing.

"I told you I was fine. Don't worry about me, John." Sherlock sighed. "Do you mind?" Sherlock asked, gesturing to the hem of John's jumper. John briefly bit his lip, but nodded knowing that with his arm in the condition it was in he wasn't going to be able to tend to himself. John felt the fire in his shoulder lesson as Sherlock pulled his jumper off of him gently. A numb, pleasant feeling ran through John's body as Sherlock lifted off his undershirt gingerly. Sherlock gently began to check over John's bruises, dabbing soothing ointment on the wounds with tender fingers.

John could feel his pain easing away with Sherlock's caring touches. He couldn't help but notice that Sherlock's skin was just as pale and flawless as his face was. John was shocked to notice that in spite of how skinny the detective was, he was actually quite muscular underneath his shirt. His abdominal muscles were defined, but not overly so. John could see them move as Sherlock shifted his attention from bruise to bruise. His shoulders were broad and strong. His wings were swaying slightly behind him, looking absolutely flawless. Sherlock truly was a thing of beauty.

John blushed when he realized that Sherlock had caught him staring, but Sherlock smiled gently back at him. "It's fine."

"Sherlock?" Instantly John felt Sherlock's wings close in around him, creating a very comfortable, warm bubble of protection around him. Safety, security, serenity, and peace was all John could feel…as if Sherlock was somehow keeping all of the pain of life away from him.

"Sorry to bother you luv…" Sherlock relaxed and his wings fell back to their resting place. "You feeling alright, John?" Mrs. Hudson asked, walking across the room to put a cuppa on the side table.

"I'm fine, thanks." John commented.

"Hope you feel better, dear." Mrs. Hudson gently patted his shoulder and Sherlock winced.

"Don't touch his shoulder." Sherlock said through gritted teeth. Mrs. Hudson sent Sherlock a sympathetic look before pulling away.

"Call if you need me." Mrs. Hudson nodded before walking out of the room. Sherlock turned back to John and began to mend his shoulder.

"Why couldn't I be an angel of healing?" Sherlock asked himself, disappointed as he put John's shoulder back into its socket. John winced slightly, but was surprised by the lack of fire in his arm.

"You're doing it again aren't you?" John inquired.

"Doing what?" Sherlock asked, massaging John's shoulder tenderly.

"Taking the pain… You don't need to do that." John commented.

"I want to." Sherlock said, continuing to massage the pain out of John's shoulder.

"Give me most of it back. There's no need for you to take it all." John ordered. Reluctantly, Sherlock nodded. John felt the pain slowly leak back into his shoulder and he smiled slightly. "Thank you though… I do appreciate it…you just don't need to think me so fragile."

"Sorry… I don't want to make you feel like I think that. I just worry about you." Sherlock frowned.

"I'm sorry…about earlier."

"You don't need to apologize, I know it's a lot to think about." Sherlock shrugged.

"I just…I've never really had anyone around. Dad left when I was young, and mum didn't have time for us… All I had for a long while is Harry, but then we fell out… I'm just used to taking care of myself, being independent." John said. "I'm not going to leave you. I'm alright with this, I've finally got it sorted in my head. It's just strange."

"It is, but it will be alright." Sherlock smiled slightly at John.

"When you wrapped your wings around me…what was that?" John wondered.

"What was what?" Sherlock questioned.

"I've never felt so…peaceful before…so safe." John said. Sherlock slowly wrapped his wings around John and instantly the feeling returned.

"You do feel really safe…happy. Perhaps we'll have to experiment with that later." Sherlock smiled as John gently ran his right hand over Sherlock's wing. Sherlock shivered slightly at the feeling before returning his attentions to John's shoulder. John didn't care that he didn't know the angel across from him very well, he felt completely safe with him. John leaned forward and rested his head against Sherlock's shoulder.

That was the second night they fell asleep in the same bed, holding each other.

* * *

**Cue girlish giggles and AWW's.**

**R&R**

**I have cookies if you do...not that I can send them to you... Maybe an air hug.**


	7. Chapter 7

**M rated material ahead... Can't imagine how slash made it into this... I haven't the faintest clue how it ended up there... :P**

**So...yeah. be warned.**

Still don't own sherlock!

* * *

Falling

A feather light kiss found the hollow below John's ear. Hands traveled teasingly over his bare torso as the cupid bow lips pecked gently across John's jaw. "Hmm…" John hummed sleepily. Sherlock smiled and pressed his full lip to John's. John opened his eyes and smiled into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's bare shoulders, pulling him closer. The early morning sun shone through the window on the lovers.

"Good morning, my John." Sherlock whispered into John's ear after he had pulled away from the kiss.

"Mm, good morning indeed." John agreed, kissing Sherlock once again. John saw a smirk flash across Sherlock's face. He almost asked him what he was up to, but then he felt Sherlock's hand grip his arousal. "Oh god yes…" John groaned, arching his back. Sherlock smirked and kissed John passionately, one hand in John's hair, the other being far too busy elsewhere. "You are…one…_mischievous_ angel." John moaned when they had to come up for air.

"Am I?" Sherlock asked, releasing John and slowly kissing his way down John's torso. John barely held back a scream of pleasure when he felt Sherlock's warm moist mouth wrap around him, doing absolutely _wicked _things to him. Needless to say, they had a rather wonderful morning indeed.

888

"We've run out of milk again, and must there always be a body part in the fridge, Sherlock?" John inquired.

"I'm not human so I do not understand the human anatomy as well as I wish. Therefore, yes, the lungs will remain in the fridge." Sherlock replied.

"I have medical books…"

"First hand knowledge is better." Sherlock replied quickly.

"Of course it is." John smiled before walking into the living room. He kissed Sherlock's temple. "I'll be back soon."

"Be safe."

"I always am, Sherlock." John winked before walking out of the flat. Sherlock smiled after him before closing his eyes and laying back against the sofa, taking his time to finish solving the case he had on at the moment, but he was interrupted by footsteps that were far too light to belong to John and too unstable to be Mrs. Hudson's. Sherlock crossed the room to open the door just as the visitor made it to the top of the stairs.

"Sherlock…I need your help…please." The woman pleaded.

_Angel…her human is turning from her, tarnishing her purity. Originally from England, but spent most of her life in Ireland. Feeling sickly and could collapse at any moment. _"Anything…" Sherlock agreed, wrapping his arms around the girl tightly. He lifted her and carried her to their room, glad that John had changed the sheets earlier. He set the woman down in the bed and ran his hands over her face tenderly. "You are weak from your journey, get some rest, you are in desperate need of it. I will be by in a little while to speak with you." She nodded weakly and closed her eyes, instantly falling unconscious.

Sherlock walked out of the room and up into what had once been John's room, but was now somewhat of a laboratory. Sherlock stared at the objects and willed them to move, uncovering the old furniture for their new guest. He desperately tried not to think of what could possibly be the fate of the woman in his bed. He had watched his father suffer the same symptoms and wished it on no one.

888

"Sherlock, darling?" John called out when he noticed that he wasn't in his normal place on the couch. He walked slowly into their bedroom to see a strange sight. A woman in her thirties with long brown hair lay sleeping in their bed. John silently pulled out of the room and turned to see Sherlock behind him. "Dear, why is there a woman in our bed?"

"She's an angel… She's in grave danger, so I took her in. I've just prepared the room upstairs for her to use while she's with us." Sherlock looked at John with a slightly guilty look on his face. "You don't mind do you? If you do I'm sure Mycroft could house her—"

"It's fine, Sherlock." John kissed his cheek gently. "What's wrong with her? She looked…ill."

"The same thing that happened to my father is happening to her." Sherlock frowned before making his way into the room. He sat next to the woman's side and slowly she opened her dark blue eyes.

"Sherlock…" She reached out and gripped Sherlock's hand tightly.

"What's your name, dear?" Sherlock asked gently. John hadn't seen him speak to anyone other than himself that kindly before, he figured it was an angel thing. _Angels do happen to be quite kind to one another. _Sherlock stated, answering John's unasked question.

"Kara," she replied quietly. "I knew you could help me."

"What do you need from me?" Sherlock asked.

"I can't find my human, he needs me, Sherlock. He's going wrong, he's just scared and wounded. He needs a mother Sherlock. He needs me. He needs to know he's loved."

"Do you know anything about him, can you remember him?" Sherlock wondered. Kara nodded.

"He's Irish…but he doesn't live in Ireland. I've searched everywhere there. He has dark hair and dark blue eyes. He is a genius! He is so smart, Sherlock."

"You being a reflection of him, correct?" Sherlock inquired.

"Yes…"

"Why has he gone astray?"

"His father…blamed him for the death of his mother…. Since he was born he was neglected, abused, ridiculed…his own father…" Tears streamed down Kara's cheeks.

"Sexually abusive?"

"Every abuse you could imagine. I used to go into his dreams and protect him. When he was quiet enough I could fill his mind with my calm and serenity…but… When he seventeen he stopped believing in me, in angels…and he went fuzzy to me. He forgot my name, and I forgot his. Then when he was twenty…he killed a man…a boy who laughed at him. I was completely severed from him after that. Ever since I have searched for him, he's still out there, hurting people. My wings grow darker almost every day. I don't want him to fall, Sherlock. You need to help me."

"I will try to find him." Sherlock promised. "John help her with her coat, I'll be back in a moment." John helped to pull the coat off of the angel and was surprised by how weak the angel was. Sherlock came back into the room with a needle and a long cord. "I'm going to help get rid of some of the pain. You will be better suited to help if it's gone. John, you might not want to be here." Sherlock commented as he tied the cord above Kara's elbow.

"I that drugs you're giving her?"

"Precisely why I thought you might want to leave. This is illegal after all." Sherlock stated, glancing at John.

"I didn't see anything." John commented, which Sherlock took as permission.

"Heroin." Sherlock replied, answering John's ponderings. "She'll be fine."

"Christ… I just had to ask." John looked down at the girl. "What's happening to her?"

"She's losing her wings."

"How is that possible?"

"Her human I turning bad…his soul is being tarnished…with every misdeed he does, she will become closer to losing her wings. She will become a fallen angel if we can't find him in time."

"How long does she have?" John wondered.

"All depends on how bad her human is." Sherlock shrugged.

"That's why Mycroft told me to take care of my soul…" John realized.

"Indeed… There are very few paths for an angel…falling is the worst fate." Sherlock frowned.

"What happens?"

"Powers grow weak, your bond with your human fades, your wings darken and lose feathers until your wings disappear with the shadows. Depression follows… My father lost his wings, he hasn't moved since. He lays in his bed and stares blankly at the ceiling, he doesn't talk, doesn't acknowledge anyone. Mycroft says that all he thinks about is his human, all of the things he should have tried to do to save him and keep him from turning bad."

"That's terrible…" John frowned and grabbed Sherlock's hand trying to comfort him. John vowed to make sure he didn't hurt people.

"It is…"

"What about me? I've killed people, Sherlock. Haven't I hurt you? I don't want to do that."

"John, you were in the army, there is a difference between killing for the safety of others and killing just to kill, not to mention how many people's lives you've saved. Even if you had killed someone, just to kill them, all of the life-saving you've done would make up for that. Souls can be repaired, John. It takes a while, but it happens."

"Could your father ever recover?" John wondered sadly.

"Very few angels come back…they have to pick themselves up and find a different human, one who is battered and troubled and they have to fix them, bring their soul back into proper order. That's the only way to regain your wings. Only two angels have made it back. Most angels die eventually of sorrow."

"Who was your dad's human?"

"Vladimir Putin…" Sherlock replied before turning to Kara. "Feeling better?"

"Much…my headache's gone."

"Good, you need to try to describe this man to me, more thoroughly."

"Anything that will help me find him, I will do it." Sherlock smiled at her before leading her towards the living room. Suddenly the windows blew out. Sherlock instantly threw himself over John, protecting him from the glass projectiles.

"Everyone alright?" Sherlock wondered. He sat up and saw Kara, clutching at her heart, leaning against the door frame.

"It was him, he set the explosion."

"I definitely will find him then."

* * *

**Crap...I forgot to mention drug use and injured angels at the top... Oh well. If you're a doctor or cop, look away. :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Shortest Chapter ever...of all time. Sorry about that guys. I just didn't want to mash up the next chapter with this one.**

**Don't own sherlock.**

**Mentions of bombs! Just saying. (I have been skipping time if yall didn't notice.)**

* * *

Pool, Midnight

Sherlock hovered over a microscope and stared at the blood sample the bomber had left him, hoping that it would help him find him—for Kara's sake. He heard the door open and mildly listened to Molly as she spoke about Jim from IT. One glance at the man instantly brought a single word to the forefront of Sherlock's thoughts. "Gay."

John slapped the back of Sherlock's head and gave him a reproving look, and Sherlock apologized to the man and Molly, before showing John the number Jim had left under a dish. John sighed as he glanced at the numbers. "Am I to be competing with everyone for you?"

"There is no competition." Sherlock whispered, wrapping his arms around John.

"Glad to hear that."

888

Sherlock sat in the flat fiddling with his violin and waiting, waiting for midnight. John was off for milk again because Sherlock had spoiled the last of it…something to do with battery acid and flesh… John had rolled his eyes, sent a slight frown at Sherlock—who strangely did apologize for the experiment, though probably because it had been a failure.

Sherlock fumbled with his phone until he felt a sharp wave of panic flood him, before John's mind went completely silent within his own. "John?" Sherlock wondered. He silently called out for him, hoping for a response, but then he realized that John was unconscious. Before Sherlock could do anything Kara walked into the room, rubbing her head. Her wings were extended. They were shaped like butterfly wings with elegant curves to them, but they were a very dark shade of grey and nearly half of the feathers had fallen off of them.

"He's at it again, Sherlock."

"You're coming with me… I know where he's going to be." Sherlock spread out his wings and took off out of a window. It only took the pair of angels a few moments until they landed lightly a block away from the pool. "You need to stay out of sight. He might hurt John if he thinks I'm not alone… I can't…" Sherlock frowned, retracting his wings.

"I understand… I'm not going to make you risk John." Kara promised, patting Sherlock's shoulder. "Go to John, he needs you." Sherlock smiled before quickly walking towards the pool, feeling John's worry, but also feeling a layer of calm run through John's mind as he stepped back into his army boots.

_I'm almost there, John. _Sherlock threw his thoughts out to John.

_It'll be alright, Sherlock. I'm fine._

_Did he hurt you?_

_I'm…alright._

_Why did I hear the word bomb in your subconscious? _Sherlock asked angrily as he opened the door.

_Sorry, Sherlock. Should have told you, huh?_

_You bet your bloody arse you should have. _Sherlock snapped back.

_Sorry._

It was seconds after his arrival that John was revealed to him, with Semtex strapped to his chest. Sherlock looked John up and down quickly and sighed when he noted he was otherwise unharmed. The devil himself in his westwood suit stepped into the light.

"You can talk, Johnny-boy." Moriarty said gleefully.

"The missile plans." Sherlock offered like an olive branch.

"Boring! I could have gotten that anywhere." Sherlock was shocked when John pulled Moriarty away from Sherlock, even though he had heard the thought flash through his human's mind.

_DON'T! If they shoot me I can be fixed, you can't John… Please… don't get yourself hurt. _Sherlock reasoned with John silently.

"Oh look at the pet, so sentimental." Moriarty said, pulling away from John and wiping invisible dust off of his suit. "Westwood. Do you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock?"

"Oh let me guess, I get killed." Sherlock commented.

"Now boys, it's not going to come to that…" A loving, soft, warm voice filled the room with a strange, tranquility. Even the snipers relaxed at the voice. Moriarty looked at the new arrival and his eyes went wide.

* * *

**Guess who's back? Back again? Kara's back. :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: This is rated M for lots of things...rape and abuse at the top of that list. Nothing too graphic.**

**I was told I couldn't make Moriarty human... I think I just did.**

* * *

Being James Moriarty

"_You're such a good little slut aren't you?" A rough voice asked angrily. The little boy squirmed and tried to pull himself away from the older man._

"_Daddy! Let go of me! You're hurting me! It hurts!" The little boy cried, tears streaming from his dark blue eyes. The boy was smart for his young age. Even at three he knew there was something wrong with what his father was doing. The pain, the burning, consuming pain tore him apart from the inside out._

"_Shut the fuck up! Don't you say a goddamned word, slut!" James tried to shut off his mind, but he couldn't do it, it was trying to see everything still, but he wish it wasn't. It seemed like years before the older man left him alone—hopefully to die—in his room. James closed his eyes and felt himself pass out in agony._

_**Warmth…pure and perfect. James sat up and looked around. He didn't feel any pain and he was glad that he was in his dream mind, because it was the most peace he had ever felt before. He had known that dreams were nice, but he had never had a dream so pleasant before, so happy and warm.**_

_**He was standing in a large garden of bright purple, blue, and white flowers. There were large hedges surrounding the garden in a huge circle, keeping the outside world from hurting him any longer. He wandered around the garden before he found a woman sitting on a stone bench in the center of the garden.**_

"_**Hello, Jimmy." The woman smiled warmly at him. She looked beautiful, the most beautiful person he had ever seen before. She had long, flowing brown hair and cute little freckles dotting her cheeks. She couldn't have been more than twenty-five and seemed to radiate peace and tranquility.**_

"_**Who are you?"**_

"_**I'm Kara… I'm here to take care of you." James seemed to mull that over for a moment before smiling and climbing up into her lap. She held her in the warm circle of her arms and ran a hand soothingly through his hair. "Will you always be here for me?"**_

"_**Yes… I promise, I'll always be here." Kara nodded.**_

"_**Can I come see you again?"**_

"_**Whenever you want Jimmy…" Kara promised, snuggling closer to the boy.**_

"_**Are you my mommy?"**_

"_**Sort of." Kara nodded.**_

"_**I needed a mommy…"**_

"_**Yes you do." Kara agreed, looking down at James. "You're a smart little guy aren't you?"**_

"_**I think so… I think daddy has been mean to me since momma forgot to wake up." James thought, his brow furrowing.**_

"_**I think so too, Jimmy."**_

"_**Why do you call me Jimmy? Everyone calls me James…"**_

"_**You look like a Jimmy… Do you not like that name?" Kara inquired nervously.**_

"_**I love it. I just wondered." James fell silent and pressed his face against Kara. "What if I need you and I can't sleep?"**_

"_**Just think of me… I'll come for you."**_

"_**Promise?" James asked, holding out his pinky. Kara smiled and locked her pinky with his.**_

"_**Promise."**_

_James woke up and noticed that he didn't hurt anymore. He silently thanked the angel in his dream and rolled over._

_888_

"_JAMES MORIATY!" A loud shout filled the seven year olds ears. He instantly ran to the top of the stairs only to be grabbed by the ankle and dragged down the stairs. He shouted in protest when he was thrown carelessly against the wall. He was sure his wrist had been broken at some point. "I told you to get rid of those fucking books! Didn't I tell you to get rid of them?! Do you really think you're smart enough for them?!"_

"_My teacher gave them to me, she says I'm special!" James protested. The man hit James over and over again with a belt, leaving huge bruises and welts._

"_You aren't special. You aren't smart. You are worthless—" At some point during the beating James had silently screamed out for the one person he knew would take care of him. The woman he saw as his mother._

"_**I'm here, Jimmy. I'll keep you safe." Kara's voice filled his senses with warmth and he felt the familiar and comfortable hedges block out all of his father's harsh treatments. He quickly found Kara and hugged her tightly, crying. He always felt bad because Kara would always be there when he cried, but he knew he made her sad when he was sad.**_

"_**What did I do wrong?" Jimmy wondered. "Why is being smart such a bad thing?"**_

"_**Because he's intimidated by you. You are much better than he will ever be. He's afraid because he knows you are better than he is. He's trying to hold you back, Jimmy." Kara explained.**_

"_**I hate it. I hate him."**_

"_**I know you do. I hate him too. No one hurts my Jimmy." She whispered.**_

"_**Am I unconscious yet?"**_

"_**Yes…" Kara nodded.**_

"_**Can we talk about something more…happy?" Jimmy wondered.**_

"_**Of course, Jimmy."**_

_888_

"_You're such a freak! God, do you go around memorizing text books?" Carl asked angrily, laughing at James._

"_No, I just have a positive IQ unlike the rest of you." James shot back. He was thirteen and three years advanced, though Carl was probably the inverse of advanced. _

"_Shut your mouth." Carl hissed._

"_Oh I quiver with fear." James rolled his eyes._

"_Freak! I bet you cut yourself like that. Do you throw yourself down the stairs? Is that why your face is so messed up?" Carl laughed at him, pointing out the scars and bruises._

"_No my dad beats the hell out of me every night…" James commented, hoping for once that maybe Carl would realize that he was telling the truth, that maybe he could be saved._

"_Yeah right freak! Knowing you you get off on hurting yourself. How 'bout I help you with that?" Carl asked, pushing James down onto the pavement. He turned away, laughing. James wiped the blood off of a cut on his arm before he ran to the back of his school and closed his eyes, calling that one name he knew would save him._

"_**Oh, Jimmy… What have they done to you?" Kara asked. She was on her knees planting trying to maintain the flowers, watering them and plucking weeds. She wore outdated overalls and her hands were covered in dirt. Jimmy didn't care if it was immature, he ran to her and threw his arms around her.**_

"_**Carl Powers pushed me down and laughed at me. He has the most irritating laugh, Kara! He's absolutely loathsome! I wish he would just die and leave me alone." Jimmy ranted into Kara's shoulder. Kara pulled away and looked into Jimmy's eyes seriously.**_

"_**That's not funny, Jimmy… Even if he's mean to you, you can't think like that about someone."**_

"_**I know… I'm sorry… They are just all so stupid!" Jimmy yelled. "How can I be the only person in the world who can think?!"**_

"_**I'm sure there are lots of people like you, Jimmy. You just haven't met them yet." Kara soothed.**_

"_**Why are the flowers sick? I've never seen them look so…sad." Jimmy frowned.**_

"_**I don't know. I guess we need to take better care of them." Kara sighed.**_

"_**Can I stay here with you for a while?"**_

"_**Always." Kara promised.**_

_When James pulled out of his dream he was shocked to realize that the cut on his arm wasn't healed. Usually he was healed after he spoke to Kara, he thought she just must have been tired after healing him all the time…_

_888_

_No one would ever know… James was standing behind a bleacher, watching gleefully as Carl got into the pool. It was quick…and no one could save Carl in time. He was drowned, never to laugh again, and no one would ever know that James had been behind it._

"_**What have you done?" **__Kara's voice echoed hollowly in James' mind. It was full of pure sorrow and agony._

"_**Get out of my head! You don't exist! Angels don't exist and if they did I surely wouldn't have one!" **__James snapped. James could feel the most heartbreaking sorrow flow through him, before he felt the link between the woman and himself shatter._

_888_

_James had taken to calling himself Jim a few years after he had shunned Kara. He had reached for her once after he had killed Carl, but he hadn't been able to sense her, and he missed her… He felt odd, missing a figment of his imagination, but she __**had **__protected him all those years of his life. He let her go though after that last cry… She obviously hadn't wanted to help him anymore._

* * *

**Does anyone feel bad for him yet? Poor boy...**


	10. Chapter 10

**We are officially back to the pool and out of Jim's wretched memories. Anyway, this is probably the last chapter unless you want one last chapter to wrap up everything, but that's only going to happen upon request. I think it's fine to leave it here.**

**I apologize about this by the way, I was going to finish this yeasterday, but I was tired! I was falling asleep where i sat, literally. **

**I hope this story was good enough. Like i said, it just sort of happened. Someone made a bet with me and I just had to win. I had to have the last word, much like Sherlock. **

**Thanks for reading this.**

**I still don't own Sherlock, John, Jim Moriarty, Mycroft, Lestrade, or Mrs. Hudson. Things would be different in my world if i did.**

**R&R :D**

* * *

An Angel

For a moment Jim stared at Kara, hoping that she was just an illusion. "Jimmy?" Kara sighed, relieved.

"What are you doing here?" Jim asked, trying to ignore the warmth in his heart when he saw her. She looked just as he remembered, just as motherly, just as warm.

"She's here to protect you, Jim." Jim's eyes instantly flashed to John.

"You can see her?"

"Of course he can see her, Jim." Sherlock commented. "We can all see her. Brown hair, dark blue eyes, freckles… Very motherly wouldn't you agree?" Sherlock smiled at Kara. Kara slowly walked forward her eyes transfixed on Jim. She walked up to him and held her hand out, an inch away from his cheek.

"I'm so sorry…about everything that happened to you. I tried… I looked everywhere for you. I tried to protect you, but I couldn't." Tears rolled slowly down Kara's cheeks. Moriarty tilted his head to the side into Kara's hand. Sherlock turned and quickly helped John out of the vest. John sighed in relief as the vest was slid away from them.

_Thank you Sherlock. _John smiled. Before Sherlock could say anything in reply a single shot filled the room. Kara screamed in pain and Sherlock winced at the pain that seared his side. "Sherlock…" John said softly, his hands folded over his side as blood began to seep through his clothes. John fell to the ground and instantly Sherlock followed him, his wings extended reflexively.

"John…" Sherlock breathed, pressing one hand on the wound and using the other to lift John's head.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock… I'm so sorry." John winced, a tear falling from his right eye.

"It's not your fault, John…" Sherlock whispered, tears falling rapidly from his eyes. He instantly stole all of John's pain, wishing very suddenly that he was an angel of healing. "You'll be alright, john."

"Don't lie to me, Sherlock." John coughed, reaching out to grab Sherlock's hand. "Promise you won't leave me…"

"I won't. I'll be right here…" Sherlock swore, wrapping John up in his arms and wings. He pulled John tightly against his chest trying to soothe him.

"I love you too, Sherlock." John half-chuckled.

"Move, let me in." A voice said from outside Sherlock's wings. Sherlock separated his wings and Kara stood just outside of him. Her wings were nearly as black as midnight and spread out behind her. There were a few patches of feathers, but they were barely holding on, a single movement could have made them fall off. "I may be close to losing my wings…but I still have some energy left in me." Kara knelt down next to John.

"You could die." Sherlock stated.

"Or John could…of the two of us, he's the better. Besides, I owe you. You helped me find Jim." Kara placed her hand on the hole in John's stomach and closed her eyes. She began to visibly shake, but Moriarty gently placed his hand on her shoulder. Her tremors stilled and her wings lightened half of a shade. "I stopped the internal bleeding and removed the bullet, but I can't heal him anymore… He needs to go to a hospital…he should be alright though."

"I'll take care of him." Sherlock promised.

"I know you will." Kara smiled and looked up at Jim Moriarty. "I'll take care of him, like I should have a long time ago."

"Good luck." Sherlock nodded.

"Thank you." Sherlock wrapped his arms tightly around John and took off from the ground breaking the glass ceiling with his mind, sending glass to the ground like sparkling snow.

"What just happened?" Moriarty asked with wide eyes.

"We're angels, Jim… Here to protect those dearest to us." Kara smiled, putting her hand on Moriarty's shoulder.

"You're an angel?"

"I'm _your_ angel."

888

John woke up in an uncomfortable bed and opened his eyes. He smiled up at Sherlock. Sherlock smiled back and kissed John's lips tenderly. "I'm glad to see you awake."

"I'm glad to be awake." John agreed.

"I think I owe Kara quite a bit." Sherlock sighed.

"Not to mention what I owe her." John chuckled, wincing in discomfort. "Stitches?"

"Quite a few of them. You should be fine in a week or two."

"Great another scar." John frowned.

"You're beautiful, John, a scar won't change that." Sherlock promised, reading into John's true thoughts. "I love you, no matter how many scars you have."

"I love you too." John's eyebrows pulled together slightly. "What would have happened to you…if I would have died?"

"There are very few paths an angel is allowed to take, John."

"And they are?"

"Some go on, find a new human to take care of… Some die with their humans, guiding them to heaven… Some change their humans…"

"What was your choice?"

"There's no point to life without you, John. I would have followed you." Sherlock answered as if it were obvious, which John agreed with—it was obvious.

"Kara! Moriarty!"

"They're fine. Kara's been to visit you once…Moriarty visited…he's more…mellow now. It's amazing what an angel can do. Her wings have already started to recover. It will take a long time for both of them to heal, but I have hope for them."

"Good… Is he done blowing things up?" John chuckled.

"I think so." Sherlock agreed. John caught sight of a bouquet of roses and a plate filled with biscuits.

"Mrs. Hudson?"

"Mycroft and Lestrade as well. They all wished you well. It was disgustingly touching."

"That's the Sherlock I know. Did you thank them?"

"Why should I? Their well-wishes did nothing to help you heal. That was Kara's doing, and I am going to thank her."

"Sherlock it's the thought that counts."

"Besides it's my brother, if I thank him his head will only grow larger."

"To match yours?" John inquired. Sherlock scowled at John.

"That's not fair."

"I never said I was." Sherlock pouted. "Oh get over here you sulking angel." John opened his arms and hugged Sherlock tightly, feeling quite content in his angel's arms. It truely was incredible what an angel could do in such a short time.

* * *

**And that's that... Any comments? Questions? And do you need an Epilogue?**

**Catch you later.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Rebecca Cumberbatch wanted an Epilogue so she got one...and yeah, It's mostly fluff (not to mention smut). Which leads me to my next point, this chapter is M, just saying.**

**I was re-reading through this and realized that it has a million movie/show references in it. Stuff from the first season of Doctor Who, The Lion King, The Princess Bride, ect. I do apologize for all of my geeky little quirks, especially the ones that bring movie refernces into my writings. I don't anything that I might have subconsciously quoted during this writing, so please don't sue me.**

**I don't own Sherlock. Just saying.**

**Enter final chapter...**

* * *

Epilogue ~ A New Leaf

"Oh, Johhhhn!" Sherlock cried out wrapping his legs around the doctor's waist tightly, gripping onto the man's shoulders for dear life. He arched his back, desperate for more of John's skin to be pressed against him. John's dark blue eyes shined with love and unrestrained lust as he stared down at his lover. He leaned down to capture Sherlock's lips, making sure to keep his thrusts in time, aiming for that spot that he knew drove Sherlock insane.

"Beautiful…" John whispered into his love's ear. John found it amazing, watching Sherlock fall apart at his touch. The consulting detective was usually so composed and controlled, but when they were entangled together John had the upmost pleasure of watching the detective lose all of his proper senses.

"Johhn…" Sherlock groaned. John smirked and reached in-between the two of them, gently stroking Sherlock's very hard erection. "FUCK! God, Johhn. Please…" John found it comical that such an angelic person had such a filthy mouth not to mention a bloody filthy mind—but beautiful regardless. John began to stroke his lover in time with his thrusts. "So close—" Sherlock moaned, arching his back and trying to pull John towards him at the same time. John sucked on the soft spot just below Sherlock's ear.

"Let go, Sherlock…" John whispered huskily into his lover's ear.

"Johhn!" Sherlock screamed as he came, pulling John over the edge with him. The pair of them collapsed onto each other, their limbs tangled together to the point where they didn't know where one of them ended and the other began. Sherlock gently kissed John's temple. "I love you."

"I love you too, Sherlock." John whispered. They were both close to relaxing, taking a mid-morning nap together until both of them heard the door open below. "Not now…" John complained.

"Get dressed love…I don't think these visitors are going to leave." Sherlock frowned and kissed John on his nose. John sighed and got out of bed. Sherlock stared at him as he walked away.

"You're starring again." John said without looking at him.

"Obviously…you're beautiful."

888

It took them slightly longer than normal, but the pair of them made it down the stairs. John was wearing a baggy t-shirt and a pair of loose fitting sweats. Sherlock was wearing a pair of John's sweats and his robe. John nearly leapt out of his skin at the company sitting nonchalantly on his sofa.

"I didn't think you would be the type of man to bottom, Sherlock. You seemed so resilient to me, like you had a huge need to be in control." The Irish accent filled the room, teasingly, tauntingly.

"Jim!" Kara snapped, lightly slapping Jim over the back of his head.

"God, Kara didn't you hear them? Sherlock in particular is quite vocal. God, even if you didn't hear them you can see it and smell it on them. Sherlock's hair is never that messy, he's too vain for that, but yet it's all over the place. And John looks quite content….satisfied. Not to mention the scratches and love bites."

"Not polite, Jim. They have every right to do as they wish in their own flat, being soul mates and all—especially." Kara smiled shyly at John and Sherlock.

"Moriarty?"

"Hello Johnny-boy. Nice to see you again." Jim grinned.

"Am I to assume you aren't going to strap a bomb to me this time?"

"As tempting as that sounds, I think you can assume that with a lot of confidence." Jim shrugged. Suddenly Kara's wings were extended. John gasped at the huge change in them. The feathers had come back and though her wings were still a dark shade of grey she looked more healthy than John had ever seen her before. Three years had done the angel good. "I'm doing my best to lay off of that stuff…for mummy." Jim smiled affectionately at Kara who beamed back.

"He's doing well…" Kara smiled happily. "I came here to thank the both of you for bringing us together… We needed each other."

"Not a problem." Sherlock grinned. "Glad to see one less angel fallen, and one more human back to normal."

"Speaking of humans and normal…" Jim commented looking John up and down. "Is it the post orgasmic bliss or is there something off about dear Johnny boy?" John blushes and Sherlock wraps his arm around John gently.

"Ah…a bell must have rung." Kara beamed. "When did you get them?"

"Last summer… We decided to stay here…keep up with the consulting detective thing…saving lives." John blushed.

"What do you mean Kara, about bells ringing?"

"Haven't you seen—never mind, irrelevant question, you would find a movie dull. Every time a bell rings and angel gets its wings. John's obviously gotten a set of wings. So I suppose the 221B duo will always be around to save the day?"

"Of course." Sherlock agreed.

"Boring without me, isn't it?" Jim asked with a smile.

"A bit yeah…" Sherlock agreed.

"Safer though…" John commented.

"Mycroft and Lestrade?" Kara wondered.

"Lestrade's had his wings for ages." Sherlock shrugged. "They are going to rule the world one day I swear."

"Minor position in the British government my arse!" John rolled his eyes.

"Sherlock…?" Jim asked, looking down slightly. "Would you mind it very much if I helped the both of you, with the crime solving and all… I…get bored." Sherlock glanced at John who smiled back.

_What harm can he do? _John inquired sending waves of contentment to Sherlock. As Sherlock had predicted when he decided to give John a pair of wings, John became an empath after receiving his wings.

_Valid point, he couldn't hurt an angel. _Sherlock agreed.

_He's trying to be good…the least we can do is help._

_I do owe Kara for saving you. _Sherlock nodded. "There's far too much intelligence at 221B, I simply can't handle anymore… Besides you seem to not be able to stand our very intense relationship. But if you find yourself your own little flat I see no problem with that."

"Don't want me to walk in on you and John?" Jim taunted.

"No, I'd fear for your sanity." Mrs. Hudson had suddenly appeared by the door. "They don't hardly ever sleep, and if there isn't a case on…dear god…you can be driven insane by the banging."

"At least she's honest." Kara shrugged.

"I think I will definitely be getting my own flat…for me and mum to stay in." Jim commented before bidding the occupants of 221B a good day. John turned to Sherlock.

"Mum?"

"That's Kara's place in Jim's life. A mother figure, to keep him sane and show him he's loved."

"She's wonderful at it."

"Most angels are good at their jobs." Sherlock shrugged.

"What's your job?" John wondered. Sherlock smirked and wrapped his arms around John.

"To do whatever pleases you, love."

"I can think of a few things that would please me." John commented with a smirk, running his hands down Sherlock's back.

"Should I warn Mrs. Hudson to put on earmuffs?"

"After her comment earlier? No way in hell." John grinned, grabbing his angel and pulling him back up the stairs. Forever had only just started for them, but they were definitely not going to waste any of their time.

* * *

**I'll write something else eventually. I'm having trouble with some of my other stories. Writers block it trying to murder me right about now. Something I look at for hours and others I just can't stop writing... Yeah don't ask me. I've known my brain for nearly two decades and I don't know what's it's thinking right now.**

**Thank's for reading (and reviewing (if you reviewed)).**

**Ciao.**


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